


Incarcerated

by GunmetalCyanide



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:24:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunmetalCyanide/pseuds/GunmetalCyanide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prison was the last place Wade expected to be. But it could be worse, right? He could be locked up with a bunch of crazy murderers and be insanely attracted to a giant who looks like something that just stepped out of his fantasies, right?  Oh, wait.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my bestie, [xkiharux](http://xkiharux.tumblr.com), for helping me with the idea, the characters, and looking it over. And I'll be honest, I'm not sure where this is going yet. But I'm looking forward to it.
> 
> This also may or may not have been heavily influenced by Orange is the New Black. It was.

"We the jury find the defendant, Wade Wilson, guilty-"

The rest of the procedures went in a blur for the young man. His eyes had gone distant, and the sounds of the courtroom were just buzzing in his ears, nothing he could manage to keep up with. Beside him, his attorney was whispering something to him, but he couldn't focus on any of it. His mind kept repeating the word.

_Guilty. Guilty._

The gavel made him jump, and his attention was forced back to the judge. What the man said, Wade couldn't have told anyone. His attorney spoke for him, a good thing, since she was obviously paying much more attention than he was. It was her hand was the only thing that had him standing. He smelled her perfume, the oddly soothing combination of sandalwood and vanilla that lingered in her office, and in the air when she left, as she leaned in to whisper to him that she would work on appeals or something immediately. He blinked, focusing on her blue eyes for a moment before he felt the cold metal around his wrists and he was forced away from her.

Wade sat quietly in the van as he was driven from the courthouse to the jail. Or prison, he supposed it was now. He had yet to be forced into the other clothes, the prison clothes, and was taking in the last little bits of comfort he could. In retrospect, he almost wished that he could have just worn jeans and a t-shirt to the courtroom; it would have been way more comfortable. As it was, the suit he wore was too tight, too hot, and scratchy. He supposed he should just get over his own complaining; before long he was going to be wearing things that probably wouldn't fit well at all.

The squealing of the breaks was the only thing that finally managed to snap him out of it. He blinked, lifting his head as he looked out the window and took in the prison. The high fences with barbed wire on top, the armed guards pacing the grounds, the fences inside fences. He swallowed, clenching the fabric of the pants he wore to keep himself from showing his nervousness. It couldn't be a good move to do that, just broadcast his fears like that, and he had seen enough TV to know what happened when you were open about the things you were scared of in prison. Being someone's prison bitch was not something that Wade really wanted.

_Guilty._

Wade sighed inaudibly, the softest exhale of breath he could manage. The van moved again, pulling through the gate and taking him into the prison complex. He watched out the window, taking in the outer layout to the best of his ability. He had never really been one for maps or blueprints, but maybe if he could learn quickly, he wouldn't be such a target. TV said the new guy was always the target. Fresh meat and all that.

_I'm going to be killed. Eaten and killed. Are these prison inmates cannibals? I should ask someone when I get in..._

The van stopped and a guard came to open the door, reaching in and grabbing Wade's cuffs, practically pulling him out of the van. Wade blinked up at the imposing figure before him. And imposing he was. In front of Wade stood a man who towered over anyone Wade had ever seen, most likely at least part giant. He was built like a truck, and Wade was going to have to make a mental note to ask if he was a cannibal.

_Because he is totally welcome to eat me. ... Wait._

Wade's thoughts were silenced as the giant of a man pulled him along into the prison. Wade winced a little at the florescent lights, sighing softly once again. However, it wasn't soft enough, and the man's blue eyes glanced his way. Wade's eyes widened, and he immediately ducked his head, but Giant Muscle Man said nothing.

Wade spent what felt like a lifetime (but was probably closer to five minutes) sitting in a too hard metal folding chair, twiddling his thumbs and wondering if Giant Muscle Cannibal Stop It Wade Man had proportional anatomy, or if something just got messed up, like when you see midget porn and they have huge dicks, but they really shouldn't, just based on their size. Was that size-ist, or however it was to discriminate against little people? Wait, was he going to get in trouble for calling them midgets? Or were they dwarves? Was little people the politically correct term? Why did he have to be politically correct in his thoughts? 

_To not be an asshole, that's why._

Right, good point.

Wade jumped when a hand touched his shoulder, merely getting an icy glare from a jaw-droppingly gorgeous woman with platinum blonde hair and eyes that were blue, but completely felt like ice. He stood when she motioned for him to, pointing to an X on the ground. Wade shuffled over, making himself focus. She placed a plaque of sorts in his hand and he took a second to look at it, sighing yet again in resignation as he saw his name.

"Face forward, head up."

The woman's voice was just as cold as her eyes, and Wade snapped to obey before she did something like rip his head off with her bare hands. He blinked when the camera flashed, trying to get those annoying multi-color boxes out from behind his eyes.

"Turn right."

Wade turned, shifting the plaque so it was still visible - because that's what they did in the movies and on TV! - and saw another flash out of the corner of his eye. He reached up to rub his eyes.

"Hands down, inmate! Turn left."

Wade bit back a growl, merely turning to the other side and focusing as hard as he could on a speck of dust on the wall in front of him. It didn't work, and a third flash later, he was pushed forward to another room.

**

"Parker! Get in here!"

Wade had only had contact with two guards, though there were countless guards roaming the halls or standing by entryways. The one that had taken his picture, the frigid woman whose name tag said Frost (which, of course, made Wade bite his tongue in an attempt not to giggle. Come on. Appropriate name much?), was the one that he had the most contact with. The other one, the Giant Muscle Sex God Wade Was Assuming had virtually disappeared, which was impressive for a man of his size and stature. Wade was beginning to wonder if Frost was going to be his personal nightmare.

A kid - for that was what he had to be - came up, looking at Frost with curiosity in his gaze, before he looked at Wade.

"This is Wilson. He's going to F block. Get him situated and then see Summers for a cell assignment," she told him. Parker nodded, looking at Wade for a minute before motioning for him to follow. Wade shifted the too-big neck of his bright orange shirt and followed.

"I'm Peter, but everyone here goes by last names, so call me Parker," the boy said after a minute. Wade looked at him before going back to trying to figure out how the prison was set up.

"I'm Wa-uh... Wilson then, I guess," he said. Peter grinned.

"I hope you always learn fast. It's easier in here if you do. For the most part, we're separated by ethnicity than by crime, though sometimes we get shifted, if our behavior alters. Don't miss mealtime, don't insult the food, and don't touch the ice cream sandwiches if you're assigned kitchen." Wade gave Peter what he was sure was the most incredulous expression in existence, because the kid burst into laughter.

"Why are all the rules about food?!" Wade exclaimed.

"Because the cook rules this place, and... well, you'll see." Peter moved easily through the prison, pausing at an office to get Wade a scratchy blanket and a too-thin pillow. One more stop at a different office and Wade had a toothbrush, a roll of toilet paper, and a small sandwich baggie of tiny bottles of shampoo and soap. Wade continued following Peter, looking in disdain at the bag.

"You're lucky to get F-block," Peter said after a minute. 

"Uh... Why?" Wade asked, unable to keep the suspicion from his voice.

"Because Summers is a good guard, even though he is a little strict... And Barton pretty much runs this part of the prison. He's a great guy... Been here forever though, and keeps saying he's gonna die here, so he's really got nothing to lose. Just don't mess with him and he won't mess with you. Oh, yeah, you need a cell..."

Wade was trying to keep track of all these new names, he really was, but between the new stimuli and the chattery Peter, it was becoming a lot to take in. And his arms were starting to itch from that stupid blanket.

"What do you need, Parker?"

"Wilson needs a cell, sir," Peter was saying. Wade shifted his gaze up, looking at the guard that he was assuming was Summers when holy shit on a stick, Batman, it was Super Hot Muscley Fuck-Me-Please Guy! Summers, as his nametag identified him, looked at Wade for a long minute before he reached into a room with large windows - to see the block in front of him - and pulled out a clipboard. Summers looked through the list for a minute, then pulled the pen from his pocket, writing something down.

"Take him to 208, Parker."

"You got it."

Peter turned on his heel, leading Wade away from Summers, though Wade couldn't help but glance one more time at the man. Summers seemed to know it was happening, somehow, and met Wade's gaze evenly. Whereas Frost's gaze was cold enough to turn Wade's insides to glaciers, Summer's gaze was different. It wasn't warm and friendly, but it wasn't full of ice and hatred either. In fact, it had the exact opposite effect, warming Wade's insides to warm liquid, and he wasn't sure what he felt about that.

"Here we are. 208. You're cellmate is Barton, which is pretty good. Barton can give you a pretty good understanding of how the prison works..." Peter bounced from foot to foot as he spoke, looking up, as though he was trying to make sure that was it.

"... Okay," Wade said, his voice going quiet as it sunk in that he was really in this situation. Peter offered a small smile.

"I think that's it. Barton's pretty chill, so ask him whatever you want. He claims he's heard it all before, so he'll be the one to give you all the answers. And he's friendly to newbies, so that will help alleviate your fears. Go ahead and make your bed - if you mess this up, Barton's going to mess it up until you get it right - and settle in. Just stay in this block. Any questions?"

"Is anyone here a cannibal?"

Wade wasn't sure if it was his tone or just the question, but he really didn't see why Peter had to laugh that hard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade meets a couple of new people and talks about his favorite lawyer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who gave me kudos, you are my air and I love you all. 
> 
> Once again, shout out to bestie, [Kiharu](http://xkiharux.tumblr.com/) for looking it over.

Wade looked at his bed in disdain, smoothing it for what felt like the millionth time, trying to get every little crease out. Was he going to get shanked for messing up the bed? Wade had a passing regret for not looking at more factual crime shows rather than just Law and Order or CSI. Then again, neither one of those shows really showed the prison side of 'law and order'. Just the what-happens-until-you-get-to-prison side.

"I have not seen a color that bright in this cell in a long time."

The voice jarred Wade out of his thoughts, causing his head to shoot up, instantly making him a little dizzy. He had stood up way too fast, and the figure at the doorway of the cell appeared in double for a minute before he condensed back into one person. The man standing there wore a grin, his arms folded over his khaki-chovered chest. Very nice arms, with nice forearms. Hairless, which was not as weird as Wade thought it would be, though he did have little tiny scars on his arms and-

"Please tell me I didn't get stuck with a mute, because that is going to make my long sentence even longer."

"Huh? Oh, no. I mean, that is the first time anyone has wanted for me to talk though. At least, first time in a long time. I do remember this time in like, third grade, when this guy was asking me who I liked, but I wouldn't tell him. Then he kept asking me and asking me and asking me, but I wouldn't tell him, because, y'know, it's none of his business. That was the last time I think that anyone actually wanted me to talk..." Wade looked up for a second, thinking it over. "Yeah, that was pretty much it. Well, how was I supposed to tell him that I was only an eight-year-old developing my sexuality still? I didn't know who the hell I liked. Not really. Though, Susie and that kiss did have me going for a while, but eh-"

"Whoa, okay. I think you need to slow down," the man said, shifting as he frowned. "Who's Susie?" Wade blinked at the guy.

"... You were actually listening?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"... Because no one does that. Seriously, even my parents tuned me out. ... Actually, that's not really that surprising. You jus thad to know them, I guess." The man chuckled, shaking his head before walking over.

"Barton. You are?"

"Wa-ah, crap. Wilson." Wade reached out and accepted the handshake from the man standing in front of him.

"Nice to meet you, Wilson. I'm guessing Peter told you that we go by last names?" Barton asked. Wade made a face.

"Yeah... Do you, or don't you? Because I feel like that's something that I'm going to have to know for sure," Wade pointed out. Barton laughed again, the sound making Wade instantly feel better.

"We do, for the most part. I've been here so long, I prefer first names. If you want me to call you by your last name, I will. If you want first name, that works. Most of the people who have gotten to know me prefer me to use their first name. It makes this place more... relatable, I guess," he explained. Wade blinked, thinking it over, before he grinned.

"Wade, then."

"Clint." Clint looked at Wade's bed and made an unimpressed face. "Where did you learn how to make a bed, man?" Wade blinked, turning his gaze back to his bed.

"Uh... TV, mostly. I mean, that's where I got all my prison knowledge. Funny you should ask, actually, because I was just thinking that I should have watched more realistic prison shows, rather than just sticking to Law and Order. I gotta admit, that didn't prepare me for the courtroom or anything, 'cause I was seriously expecting for Sam Waterson to come in and prosecute me. If he would have, I would have convicted myself of being guilty though. He is a pretty convincing actor. Seriously, if I ever went up against DA Jack McCoy, I'd be so fucked-"

"I don't know how that is," Clint said, shrugging. He had moved over at some point while Wade was rambling on and yanked the top blanket - because that sure as hell was not a comforter - off the bed, then pulled up the sheets. "Let me show you, Wade, how to do this right."

Clint left Wade's sheets tossed onto the thin mattress that would now be Wade's. Instead, he moved over to his own bed, moving the top blanket and pointing out how the corners looked. Wade examined it for a long minute before he turned to his bed and started to mimic the look.

"How do not know who Sam Waterson is? Law and Order has only been on the air for like... forever," Wade said, shifting the thin mattress to tuck the sheet under it. "I mean, it started in... what? 1990, 1991? Seriously, the show was on the air for twenty years! You would have had to be in here for over twenty years to not have _ever_ seen Law and Order. And, you obviously havent, because Jack McCoy has been badassin' it up on that show since like... Season four or five? That's sad, man. I wish I could just show you all of it. You'd like it, I think. I mean, I don't know, we did- What is so funny?"

Wade turned to face Clint, confusion clearly written on his face, as Clint sat on his bed, holding his sides, almost doubled over from how hard he was laughing. Wade tried to think over whatever he said that could have been so funny, but he did not understand how giving Clint a brief history on Law and Order and why Jack McCoy could have made him think himself guilty was funny in any way.

"Wade... holy shit... Do you always talk this much?" Clint finally managed to choke out. Wade blinked, thinking it over before shrugging.

"Why not? I have freedom of speech, for now, so I might as well use it, right?" Wade's answer made Clint snort and he tried very hard to make himself stop laughing. After what seemed like four or five long minutes all shoved together in the same one minute time span, Clint finally stopped and looked at Wade.

"You are going to have to watch that mouth around the guards," Clint finally said. "Seriously. Just stick with as few words as you can get away with. Especially with Frost and Romanoff, because they are not going to think you're funny. Not even a little bit." Wade filed those names away for a minute.

"And Summers?" Clint snorted and moved over to Wade's bed, grabbing the blankets and pulling them off again.

"Yes sir and no sir are the only words you need with Summers."

Wade bit his tongue as certain images jumped into his head and he sighed as he tried to force them to the side. After all, he had only _just_ met Clint and he didn't want their friendship, or whatever this was, to start on a weird note. Well, a weirder note.

It only took a few more attempts to finally get the hang of making his bed to Clint's standards. Really, Wade was beginning to think that Clint just liked pulling the sheets off and watching Wade try not to shout when he did. But Clint was a good companion, actually talking to Wade when Wade started as opposed to just ignoring him and going on with what he was doing. When Wade had the bed done right, Clint had shifted back against his bed across the cell, putting his back against the wall and sitting almost like a bird. Well, as much as one as Wade could tell. Wade, on the other hand, sat on the bed and kept his legs stretched across it.

"So, Clint...?"

"Yeah, Wade?"

"What's the policy on asking what someone did to get in here?" Clint stayed silent after the question, seeming to think over an answer for that. Wade watched him, almost itching to break the silence. When Clint took too long, Wade felt his mouth open of its own accord and words just came spewing forth.

"Because, I mean, I'm insanely curious. I like knowing things. About people or things. I don't even have to know deep, intimate secrets. I just like knowing general things, like where they went to school or how old their crush was when they were six, y'know? I just like knowledge, and putting facts together about people. But, I also really don't wanna get shanked or something. Especially not in the kidneys. People do that, don't they? Because I heard that if you get stabbed in the kidneys, all that stuff in there can get in your bloodstream and if you survive the initial shank, that you can get seriously fucked up from that. Or was it the liver?"

"Wade, seriously. I'm beginning to think you just don't like silence," Clint interrupted.

"No, not really."

"Fuck, I'm screwed when it comes to lights out. As for your first question, about the policy on how you got in goes... it depends on the person. I mean, don't make it your first question. A lot of people are going to be really chill about it. Like... I don't mind. It's not like I've really got anything waiting for me on the outside anyway. But asking people like... Don't ask Bruce - Banner. You'll meet him soon, I'm sure, but asking him is... It's just not a good idea. He's liable to get really mad at you, and that... Well, let's just say that there are a lot of things nicer in prison than facing the wrath of Bruce. You basically have to judge it for yourself." Wade nodded, making note of this Bruce Banner man, and putting him in the 'Do Not Ask' category. Sure, that would probably get lost somewhere later, but it was good to know that, for now, he had it in the right place.

"Good to know. ... So... what did you do?" Wade asked, watching Clint still. Clint raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking upward.

"I don't kiss and tell on the first date, Wade," he responded. Wade grinned.

"Is that everywhere, or just here?" Clint laughed before he stood up.

"C'mon. It's rec time, so we're free to wander in approved areas. Let's go get you introduced to some of the others." Wade stood, following Clint to the door of the cell, tugging on the neckline of his too-big shirt. Clint seemed to notice, as he had everything else so far.

"When you get khakis, you'll get a shirt that fits. When you're in the oranges, they don't care." Wade blinked.

"What's the difference?" he asked.

"Oranges are for new arrivals. The guards can see it easily in the khakis, so that if anyone fucks with you, they can be there fast, or if you cause trouble, they know who it was. There's probably some kind of paperwork tied in with it, but I don't run that side of the prison. Khakis are to assimilate you into the group dynamic, or some bullshit. I guess if they think we're all wearing the same thing, they can take away our individuality or something."

"Uh-huh... How's that worked?"

"It hasn't."

Clint moved down the stairs, leading Wade into a larger area with a lot of tables, a TV on the corner wall, and a lot of people. Wade paused, taking a minute to look at them. They all may have been wearing the same color shirt and pants - with a few oranges scattered in - but Clint was right: every single one of them was unique. There were men who looked like they ate steroids for breakfast with different hair colors or styles, sitting with men who looked like they had never lifted in their lives, mixed in with everything in between. Tall, short, old, young, buff, lean, they were all there.

"Don't linger." Clint's voice broke through Wade's thoughts and he moved to keep up with Clint, taking a mental count of the sheer number of people here, losing track way faster than he wanted to.

"Are any of them cannibals?" Wade asked. Clint snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Nah, not anymore. We had one a while back who was, supposedly, but... well, he's not here anymore."

"Transfer?"

"... You can call it that." Clint's tone sounded nothing short of amused, and Wade decided not to push that line of thought. The rec area, as Wade assumed it was called, was not as tense as Wade had always imagined it would be, but he stuck close to Clint anyway. He always imagined everyone to be on edge, about to shank one another or start brawls. He saw a few guards against the wall, keeping an eye on things, but they didn't even have heavy weaponry or anything. They were armed, obviously, but nothing extensive. He was almost disappointed.

"Clint, friend!"

The booming voice, practically echoing across the room, made Wade jump and he blinked, looking toward the large man coming over. His khaki shirt was stretched taut across his wide chest, and he had blond hair that was pulled back into some kind of a messy bun thing, Wade guessed. His eyes were crystal blue, and he had a huge fucking smile on, one that looked way too big for prison.

"Hey, Thor."

Thor stepped up to Clint, dwarfing the other man, and looked as though he would hug Clint, except the guards were watching him closely. Instead, he gripped Clint's forearms tightly for the briefest moment, Clint returning the gesture, and then looked at Wade.

"Who is your new friend?"

"Thor, Wilson. Wilson, this is Odinson. Everyone calls him Thor though," Clint introduced, stepping back. Thor stepped closer to Wade, dwarfing Wade as he had done Clint, causing the chatterbox to look at him.

"Uh... Sup?" Wade asked lamely. Thor laughed and gripped Wade's arms as well. His hands were rough and warm, but the strength behind the squeeze he gave Wade made his fingertips tingle. He let go before Wade could return the gesture.

"Welcome to prison, Wilson! You are lucky to have Clint here as your guardian and guide," he said, loudly. Wade wondered if this was just his natural indoor voice, or if he was a little hard of hearing.

"Uh... Yeah, guess so. You're not the first person to call my lucky today..."

"When is Loki supposed to return?" Clint's voice caused Thor to frown, and the sight of the giant man anything but jovial immediately seemed weird to Wade, which Wade, in turn, thought was weird, considering he had only just met this man.

"Another week, minimum, unless he is behaving himself." The more serious tone of Thor's voice had made his voice soften, less boom-y in the rec area. Wade watched, curious. Clint snorted, shaking his head.

"Loki has an issue in that particular area," he said. Thor's eyes hardened, but he nodded his agreement. He spoke with Clint for a few more minutes on the matter, but Wade shifted, looking around at the various inmates sitting at tables, playing cards, or just talking. A few had books and were reading, and a couple had notepads and were writing something. At least Wade was going to be able to find _something_ to do...

"Hang in there, Thor."

Wade turned to see Thor walk away, and he moved to walk with Clint again.

"Seriously though, how have you not seen one single episode of Law and Order?" Wade asked. Clint rolled his eyes.

"I didn't exactly get a lot of TV time before I came in here, and I don't like the stupid shows they show here. Most of it is news anyway," he explained. Wade thought that over for a minute.

"Well, then I'll just tell you about an episode. So, it starts with this great theme music. Seriously, the theme is great. And there are pictures of all the actors and actresses-"

"Wade. I may be listening to what you're saying, but I am not going to stand here and listen to you tell me scene by scene what happens in an episode of Law and Order," Clint interrupted. Wade watched him, frowning, before he sighed.

"I would still find anyone guilty if it was Jack McCoy prosecuting them..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://fuckyourcalibrations.tumblr.com)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade learns about another inmate and alarms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. My birthday was last week and it turns out I'm useless when I have that many days off in a row.
> 
> Thanks to [Kiharu](http://xkiharux.tumblr.com) for helping me look this over.

Clint led Wade between tables in the rec room, introducing him to a wide variety of people. He used last names when introducing, but spoke to them on a first name basis. For the most part, Wade noticed that no one really seemed angry or harsh with Clint. Wade figured this had something to do with the way that Clint had said that he didn’t run ‘that side’ of the prison. That must mean that he ran some side of the prison, right? Come to think of it, Thor had called him lucky to have Clint as his guardian and guide. Did that mean that Clint was his muscle if someone jumped him? Wade looked at Clint, assessing the other man. Wade wasn’t sure if it was a relief or not.

"I can feel you staring at my ass. Knock it off, I’m taken."

Wade started as Clint spoke, lifting his gaze from Clint’s ass - really, how did his eyes end up there? - up to Clint’s face. The other man seemed incredibly amused, more by his tone than his face. Wade shrugged.

"I was thinking," he said. Clint gave him a nod with an expression that clearly read ‘sure, that’s all you were doing’.

"I was wondering why you were so quiet." Clint chuckled, moving to a cell door that was shut. Inside, a man with dark hair that was pulled up into a ponytail sat on the bed, a sketch pad on his lap. Strands of his hair fell in his eyes, and one hand held a pencil, though it wasn’t moving on the paper.

"Bucky, you alright? Why aren’t you out here today?" Clint’s tone was friendly, but his body was tense, cautious. Wade tilted his head and peeked in a little more, trying not to make the motion too obvious. The man lifted his head, looking over at Clint, and there was something deadly in his eyes. Some kind of mask rested over his face, and Wade was guessing it was a spit guard or a muzzle.

"Oh, did you get into it with Romanoff again? You know when you get too mouthy, she’s going to put the muzzle on you." Clint continued talking like it was nothing, and the man’s eyes narrowed. Clint watched him for a long minute, then shifted to the side, tugging Wade into full view of this Bucky.

"This is my new cellmate, Wilson. Wilson, this is Barnes." Wade opened his mouth to speak, but Clint leaned in, his voice a quiet whisper that Wade had to strain to hear. "Today’s a bad day, so keep your mouth shut. If you ever see Bucky with the muzzle on, he’s having a bad day, so shut up." Wade closed his mouth and merely lifted a hand in a wave. Clint rolled his shoulders and leaned on the bars of the door.

"Well, if you end up needing anything, pass me a note, alright? See ya later, Bucky." Clint didn’t move until Bucky gave a nod, then Clint pushed off the bars, leading Wade away.

"What’s his story?" Wade asked when they had moved further away. Clint looked at him, then offered a sort of shrug and moved toward a table, waving a hand to the two people sitting there. They got up, moving to a different table, joining another couple of peple. Clint motioned for Wade to sit down, then sat himself. He was quiet for a long minute before he finally spoke.

"Bucky has amnesia or something, I think. No one’s ever confirmed it, and Romanoff is the only person in the whole prison who knows exactly what happened to him. What I do know is that he was some kind of assassin or something for the Russians. But, he used to be an American citizen. He ran alongside some popular guy in the military before he was thought to be dead. He was taken by Russians who fucked with his head, and now he doesn’t remember much. If you ever see him in the visiting room, don’t fucking stare. It’s fucking sad, but he doesn’t like people watching or knowing. I can’t say I blame him." Wade watched Clint for a long minute, then leaned forward.

"That’s not really all you know though, is it?" Clint blinked at him before his lips quirked upward in a grin. He leaned in as well.

"No, but that’s all you get to know."

Wade opened his mouth to speak when a loud alarm started blaring in the prison. Clint looked up and swore viciously before he got out of his chair, lying on the ground with his hands on his head.

"Get down here! Hands on your head!" Clint hissed at Wade. Wade fell out of his chair, clenching his fingers together in his hair.

"What’s going on?" Wade whispered. Clint shushed him as the guards started moving around.

"Everybody be quiet! Nobody move!"

The voice was loud, booming, and Wade knew somewhere in the place where he just knew things, like cold pizza was delicious and you didn’t ask a guy about his mother unless you actually knew her, that the owner of that voice was Summers. He shifted his head to try to look, but a soft growl from Clint made him stop. From his spot, however, he did manage to watch a burly lookin guard walk up to Bucky’s cell. He could just barely hear the guard telling Bucky to get on the ground and put his hands on his head. Obviously, Bucky wasn’t moving, because the gaurd was getting more and more frustrated. A petite guard with red hair seemed to just appear by the man, and she snapped at him softly, her eyes blazing. The guard moved along, looking chastised, and the small guard looked into the cell, talking to Bucky. Wade couldn’t make out the words, but he was almost positive that she was talking to Bucky in Russian.

A pair of boots stepping into his vision snapped Wade out of it, and Wade shifted his eyes up, looking directly up at Summers. Only now did Wade see that one of his hands was silver, and Wade kind of wished he hadn’t realized it until he was alone. Or maybe until he was with Summers, pinned against the wall, while that metal han-

"Clear."

While Summers didn’t raise his voice, it carried through the prison easily. Wade shifted like he was going to stand up, but Summers looked at him and Wade couldn’t have moved if he tried. The two watched each other for what felt like an eternity, before Summers smirked and moved away.

"All prisoners return to your cells. All prisoners return to your cells."

The intercom blared loudly over their heads and Wade stood up, breathing deeply for a moment before he looked at Clint.

"What-"

"I know you like to talk, but when we’re in the cell." Clint’s eyes were narrowed and he looked ready to murder someone. Wade fell silent and followed Clint back up to their cell. Clint sat on the bed, watching the door, and Wade sat down quietly, immediately bouncing his foot. It wasn’t until someone came and closed the cell door that Clint finally looked at Wade.

"… So, if you can talk, you fidget?" he asked.

"I can’t help it! It’s like an itch that can’t be scratched, and that’s fucking obnoxious. It’s the worst feeling in the world. Like, I broke my arm once, and the cast made my arm itch so bad, but I couldn’t reach into the cast. I tried to scratch my arm with a pencil, but then the pencil broke in half and got stuck in the cast, and that was obnoxious too! It was the worst, because every time I moved my arm, the pencil lead would jab me, and my arm was bruised, so that really fucking hurt. I’m honestly surprised I never got like lead poisoning or something. Well, not lead poisoning. Pencil lead is graphite, but still-"

"Calm down, Wade. Jesus." Clint shifted, laying on the bed, his hands going behind his head.

"Right, sorry. … So what was that?" he asked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his legs.

"Something happened in another section of the prison. When that alarm goes off, no matter what you’re doing, you lay on your stomach, hands on your head. The guards count, make sure everyone’s where they’re supposed to be, then we return to our cells for the night, if not longer. It depends on what happened," he explained. Wade nodded, looking out the cell door.

"Why did the guards go to Bucky’s cell?" he asked. Clint looked at him.

"You noticed that, huh? When Bucky has bad days and is wearing the muzzle, he’s confined to his cell. The first guard was probably telling him to get on the ground. Romanoff was the second one. Like I said, she’s the only one who knows what Bucky went through. When the alarms go off, she checks on him on his bad days. If he’s already locked in his cell, he usually doesn’t move or speak. So, she was getting the guard to leave him alone."

"Why?"

"Because once upon a time, a guard decided to try to piss Bucky off when Romanoff was off, and Bucky reached through the cell door and strangled him." Clint looked at Wade, who nodded a little.

"Oh."

"We were about to go to dinner too. That means eating in the cells tonight… Guess you get to meet Bruce tomorrow…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](http://fuckyourcalibrations.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade opens up to Clint and meets a new guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming to do one chapter a week, probably updating on Sundays or Mondays. When I figure out what day it is, I'll actually say something.
> 
> Thanks to my best friend, [xKiharux](xkiharux.tumblr.com) for looking it over.

Wade and Clint lay in their beds, both silent, at least for now. Clint has warned Wade that, when the cart came around with their dinner trays, he was going to have to shut his mouth. Wade talked to Clint about anything that came to mind until then, but the sharp-eyed blond had cut him off abruptly when he saw the carts entering the block.

A shadow over their cell door made Wade sit up to look, seeing none other than Guard Summers, who was slowly beginning to fill all of his thoughts when he couldn’t talk. Seriously, Wade had just been thinking about Summers holding him up, both hands on his ass, as the burlier man feasted on Wade’s neck, and Wade letting out lit-

"Wade, go grab the food, please?" Clint asked, sitting up too. Wade snapped out of it, standing up and moving over to the door, but keeping his hands visible. Summers watched him, blue eyes intense.

"So you’re the new guy, huh?" Summers asked, his voice doing things to Wade that were really inappropriate in front of others. Wade did remember what Clint said, and his head bobbed in a nod.

"Yes, sir," he said. Summers watched him before his lips quirked up in a smirk, and he passed Wade one try at a time through the slot in the cell door.

"What happened?" Clint asked. Summers didn’t shift his eyes away from Wade, and the smaller man was completely enraptured.

"Shiv in A-block. We don’t think anyone was hurt, but who really knows," Summers responded. Clint let out a growl, but nodded. Summers caught Wade’s attention and nodded to the second tray. "Seems like word of your arrival reached the kitchens. Banner made sure to tell me that one was yours." Wade blinked, finally managing to drag his eyes from Summers’ blue ones to the tray. The funny part was, the food on the tray actually looked edible.

"Back up, Wilson," Summers told him, and Wade took a few steps back. Summers looked over at Clint, offering a nod, then continued walking. Wade shifted to watch him, leaning toward the door and watching the strong leg muscles move in Summers’ black pants, watching the way the fabric stretched tight across a very, very nice ass-

"Wade, dude, if you don’t give me my food I’m going to have to strangle you with a blanket," Clint told him. Wade started and turned, passing over the tray to Clint. Clint snickered and dug in as Wade sat down.

"Is this pudding?!" Clint blinked, raising an eyebrow and looking over at Wade’s tone. He snickered.

"Bruce hides them so that he can share them with the new arrivals. And if he really likes you, he’ll sneak you some when he can. I get one at least twice a month," he said, shrugging. Wade grinned, opening the pudding and starting on that.

"This is awesome," Wade mumbled around his pudding. "I haven’t had pudding in forever. It’s delicious. Does he only have vanilla??" Clint shook his head.

"There’s probably another one. Didn’t your mom ever teach you to eat your dessert last?" he asked. Wade made a face and shook his head.

"Nah. She didn’t really teach me much of anything, to be honest," he said. Clint watched him, spoon hanging loosely between two fingers.

"What’s your story, Wade? You seem too… happy to do anything to end up in here," Clint said. Wade raised an eyebrow at the other man.

"Oh, and Thor is just the angriest soul in the universe?" Wade countered. Clint shook his head.

"No, Thor got thrown in here because of his adopted brother. Thor is harmless, for the most part. Stop evading. What did you do that was so bad?"

Wade watched his pudding for a long minute, his mind processing everything that had happened up until this point. He knew that his head was good about trying to avoid dealing with his problems at all, and that’s what it had done. Since the minute he stepped foot into the prison, he was deflecting his problems by focusing on cannibalism, hot guards, Law & Order, and Summers’ ass. Or humor. Just making shit funnier than it needed to be. He huffed out a sigh and put his pudding back down, pushing the peas around his tray instead.

"So, I… I had a crappy life. My parents didn’t really give a damn about me, so I didn’t have that… But I was doing okay. I managed to get through high school with mediocre grades, and got into a pretty decent college. That didn’t work out, but my grandfather left me money when he died. Not a whole lot, and he had never met me, but I dropped out of college and found a pretty decent job. I mean, it wasn’t the best, but it paid the bills. Plus, I got to meet a lot of pretty cool people. I kept the money the old man left me in savings, and didn’t really think much about it…

"I met this pretty cool guy, and we started spending time together. I… He wanted more than I wanted to give him, so I tried to tell him that and make sure he knew that I only wanted to be friends. He got raging pissed and came at me with one of my own knives. Like a huge one. Butcher knife or something. I got freaked. I fought him for a while, managed to get the knife back and tried to get him to stop… He ran for me again, and I stabbed him… Like a lot. The first one made him stop, but I got so freaked out and scared he was going to hurt me, so I just kept…" Wade trailed off and looked at his tray. Clint shifted, putting his own tray down on the bed and moving over to sit with Wade.

"Someone in the apartment complex heard all the yelling and called the cops. When they broke down my door, I was standing over his body with the knife in my hand, and trying to breathe. They got the knife away and arrested me. When I told my lawyer what happened, she said it sounded like we had a pretty good case for self-defense, and that I should be able to get off without doing any time…. Turns out, he was a judge’s kid, and I was pretty much fucked the second I walked into the court room. The money my grandfather left me got spent on my lawyer fees, and now I’m here."

"Jesus," Clint muttered. He put his arm around Wade, pulling the younger man a little closer. Wade leaned on him, putting his tray aside, appetite gone.

"I didn’t wanna hurt him," Wade whispered into Clint’s shirt. "I just wanted to be friends." Clint sighed when Wade’s shoulders started to shake, but he kept an arm around the other man, keeping him close. Summers walked back by, his blue gaze looking in and noticing the scene. He gave Clint a confused expression and the blond shrugged his free shoulder, rubbing Wade’s back. Summers watched for a moment, debating whether or not to force them apart, before he simply walked away.

"I didn’t expect you to turn on the water works, Wade," Clint murmured to the other man. A snort came from Wade and he lifted his head, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

"Good. Maybe I can keep you on your toes then." Clint chuckled, but watched Wade.

"You gonna be alright?" he asked. Wade shrugged a little, taking his tray and poking at the food again.

"I guess. I mean, there’s not really a whole lot I can do about it, so I’m going to just… keep trying," he responded.

"That’s the spirit."

A new voice startled Wade and he looked up, eyes wide. An older man stood there, a guard’s uniform on, and a smile on his face. Wade noticed that his name badge read ‘Coulson’. Before Wade could ask any questions, Clint stood up, moving to the door, though he didn’t touch it.

"We clear?" he whispered, and Wade had to strain to hear it. Coulson moved his eyes to either side for a moment, barely turning his head, and nodded.

"We’re clear."

Clint reached through the bars, grabbing Coulson’s shirt and pulling him forward. Coulson let out a soft chuckle before his lips met Clint’s. Wade’s eyes widened to somewhere around the size of Jupiter at both the action itself and the passion behind it. Clint’s hands were clenched tight in Coulson’s shirt, his body taut and pushed flush against the bars. Coulson, on the other hand, was resting his hands on Clint’s forearms, not squeezing, just touching. His body was more relaxed, resting almost lazily against the door. Clint pulled back, keeping Coulson close, panting softly.

"Missed you," he whispered. Coulson smiled, the action making him look younger, but it just seemed right to Wade.

"Missed you too," he responded. "With the shiv found in A-Block, I’m probably not going to be able to slip away to see you that often." Clint made a face and Coulson laughed softly. "Don’t give me that, Clint. We both knew that I’d have to be in a different block than you, and that I’d have to watch how often I came. We’re lucky that Romanoff likes both of us enough to look the other way." Clint scoffed, but shifted to look at Wade, his hands finally leaving Coulson’s uniform and taking the hand Coulson moved into the cell.

"This is my new cellmate, Wade. Wade, this is Phil Coulson. Only call him Coulson or sir when you see him, unless he’s here to see me. Then you can call him Phil," Clint said, grinning. Coulson - Phil - smiled, shaking his head.

"Nice to meet you, Wade…?"

"Wilson. My last name’s Wilson," Wade said, offering a small smile. "So you two…?"

"Yeah, though Phil was stubborn as fuck about it," Clint complained. Phil chuckled and squeezed Clint’s hand.

"I just wanted to let you know that I’m fine, and it may be a bit before I can see you. We found the shiv before anything happened, luckily, but still." Clint sighed and nodded, stealing a soft, lingering kiss from Phil before he let go of his hand.

"Thanks for the heads up. Be careful."

"I will. Nice to meet you, Wade. Keep him out of trouble?"

"Uh, yeah… sure…"

Phil gave him a smile and then walked away, shaking his head. Clint leaned on the door, watching him with a sigh. He stayed there until Phil was out of sight and then turned to Wade. Wade looked at him for a minute and then cleared his throat.

"Your uh… your lips are red," he said. Clint grinned, dropping onto his own bed and grabbing his tray.

"Yeah, well."

"So… You and a guard, huh?" Clint burst into laughter.

"It’s not as foreign as you think, but it’s not that popular either. We’re careful, and, like he said, Romanoff likes us. She respects Phil, who is a senior guard, and her and I made friends easy. And we are… super careful. In public, it’s strictly business, and we both understand that. … Look, it’s complicated in that it’s really not that complicated. Just… don’t mention it to anyone." Clint watched him, his gaze serious. Wade tilted his head and then shrugged.

"Alright. As long as you tell everyone that you think Bea Arthur is a queen," he responded. Clint frowned.

"Bea Arthur?"

Clint immediately knew by the way that Wade’s eyes widened and damn near started glittering that he had just opened himself to a very, very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](fuckyourcalibrations.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wade finally meets the elusive Bruce Banner, and Nate does some thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm like a week late, but I don't have a good enough excuse so here's this.
> 
> Thanks, as always to [Kiharu](xkiharux.tumblr.com) for looking this over.

The next morning, Wade found that waking up in a prison wasn’t too different than waking up outside one. Someone was still there to annoy the fuck out of him until he got up, though in this case, he actually liked the person waking him up.

"C’mon, Wade. I’m starving, and you have to thank Bruce for the pudding. Remember to be polite. Bruce is a good man, but he’s scary as fuck, and no one fucks with him. Only part of that is because he runs the kitchen. The other part is because, guess what, he’s scary as fuck."

Clint’s mouth was running way too fast for Wade to keep up with, so he grunted something out in acknowledgement and pulled on the bright orange too-big shirt. He ran a hand down his face and then over his hair, causing it to stick out in a few different directions. A loud buzz echoed through the block as the cell doors opened. Clint led the way out as Wade fell into step behind him.

"So what are we doing?" Wade asked, watching other people around them fall into step as well. Clint raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"Not a morning person, chatterbox?" he asked, looking amused. Wade offered a shrug in response. "Breakfast, genius. Breakfast."

Wade did nothing more than nod as they stepped into a room with too-bright florescent lights and long rows of tables with attached chairs. The tables were bolted to the floor, but it did look like there was the potential to un-bolt them if it was necessary. Wade was abruptly reminded of high school and how crappy all of those tables were.

"This way."

Thankfully, Clint snapped him out of his memories, leading him to a line. The older man looked around the room, meeting Romanoff’s gaze. Wade followed his line of sight, watching dark green eyes zero in on Clint before the female guard looked toward the door, watching some new inmates come in. Clint turned the other way, looking back toward the door, where Summers came in. Wade immediately stopped caring about whatever Clint looked at her for, instead watching the way that Summers stepped back against a wall, crossing muscular arms across a muscular chest. Wade wondered what his skin tasted like…

"You must be Wilson."

A kind, patient voice snapped Wade out of his perverted daydreams and made him aware that, while he was spacing out, his body knew it wanted to eat - actually food, get your mind out of the gutter - and had moved him toward the food. The man across the food from him was a kind looking man with soft eyes and curled hair that was graying slightly. Wade blinked, but nodded.

"The one and only…" he responded, his tone curious.

"I’m Banner, but call me Bruce. Did you get your tray last night?" Wade noticed that Bruce kept his voice soft, so Wade nodded again, keeping his voice soft as well.

"Yeah. The pudding was great. I haven’t had any in forever. Thanks." Bruce gave him a smile, passing him a tray over the glass.

"You’re welcome. Stick close to Clint, and if he’s not around, Thor. Go down to the other guy to get your plasticware and drink, alright?" When Wade nodded, Bruce smiled and turned his attention to the next person in line. Wade pushed his tray further along, looking for the next guy. The next guy had black hair and a black goatee, and he looked like he belonged on a helicopter landing on a yacht in his own private bay. Not by the khakis he wore, obviously, but by his very demeanor. He met Clint’s gaze without an ounce of shame or fear.

"You’re Wilson, right? The new guy?" Wade nodded, and the man continued. "I’m Tony. You’re lucky Bruce is so nice to the new guys. Don’t look like such a puppy. Even if I didn’t hear about a new guy comin’ in, you’re wearing bright orange. You kind of stand out." He passed Wade a napkin, a plastic fork and spoon, and a cup. "Go on. You can’t stand here all day."

Wade rarely had the feeling that he had been hit by a whirlwind when meeting a person, but he did as he walked away from Tony. He saw Thor sitting at a section of a table and paused, looking around for Clint. The other man had disappeared, and Wade had no idea where he was. Steeling himself for rejection (and remembering high school way more than he wanted to), Wade moved toward Thor.

"Uh, hey, Thor-"

"Ah yes, Wilson! Please, please, have a seat! You are welcome to break your fast with me, friend!"

Thor’s voice boomed in the cafeteria like it had in the block, and Wade couldn’t help but grin. He sat down across from Thor and looked at the eggs and sausage on his plate for a long minute. A biscuit sat in the corner, and a small serving of fruit cocktail was in its own section. He looked at the cup, watching the milk inside, just in case. He shrugged and dug into the eggs first.

"Why do you talk so loud? I mean… shit…"

The words were out of Wade’s mouth before he could stop them, but Thor merely laughed, not taking any offense. The larger man probably welcomed it after the few minutes of silence that seemed to drag on way too much to the normally talkative blond.

"I am used to it, my friend. I have been loud of voice since I was a child. It annoys Loki very much, but I have not yet figured out a way to stop," he responded, smiling as he gave a half-shrug, though it didn’t seem to bother him too much. Wade grinned at him.

"I don’t mind."

"Part of it is also how deep his voice is. Deep voices carry further and sound louder."

Wade blinked, twisting in his seat to see Bruce sit down next to him. Bruce gave him a smile before Tony sat across from Bruce, sitting next to Thor.

"Hello Bruce, Tony. Delicious as always," Thor greeted. Bruce nodded in thanks, eating his fruit quietly.

"You guys are done serving already?" Wade asked. Tony snorted.

"You were just slow, Wilson," he responded.

"Wade. My name’s Wade. Hey, does anyone know where Clint disappeared to? He was right in front of me before I grabbed my food and now he’s just disappeared. … He is real, right? This isn’t some weird alternate universe were he’s just a figment of my imagination that I created to make prison easier, right? Because I’m really not sure if I could handle that. I mean, you guys are great, but I don’t think my imagination can make all of you up and-"

"Holy shit. Remind me to starve Clint for not telling us this guy was a talker. Breathe, Wade, breathe."

Tony interrupted, but it was Bruce trying not to choke on his fruit that caught Wade’s attention. Wade watched Bruce for a minute, then looked at the other two men.

"Seriously though, where is he?" Bruce cleared his throat.

"Ah… Clint doesn’t eat breakfast."

Wade could have almost believed it if Tony hadn’t started snickering. Bruce gave him a look, but Wade ignored it, looking over toward Romanoff for a moment, his gaze thoughtful before he turned his attention back to his breakfast. Clint seemed like he had his own business under control.

**

"Fuck… Phil, don’t tease. We don’t have time for a lot of teasing."

Clint’s voice was strained as he clenched his fingers into the desk beneath him. Phil’s gaze lifted from between his legs, ignoring Clint’s heavy cock resting against his stomach. Phil leaned back, looking back at Clint’s puckered hole, dripping with saliva and flavored lube, clenching at air.

"Do you need it, baby?" Phil asked, looking back at Clint.

"You know I do, Phil…"

Phil chuckled, standing up. He shrugged out of his shirt quickly, undoing his belt and pushing his pants and boxers down. Before he could lube his own cock up, Clint closed in, dropping to his knees and taking the thick length between his lips. He worshipped Phil’s cock when he was on his knees, his tongue paying attention to every inch, making sure none of it was left dry. He suckled at the tip, ghosted his teeth over the rest. His hands cradled Phil’s balls, stroking whatever bit wasn’t in his mouth. He pulled off, letting Phil fall out of his mouth with a soft _pop_. Phil groaned, but moved Clint so that he was bent over the desk, his ass up in the air.

"Tell me, Clint," Phil whispered.

"Please," Clint groaned back. Phil smiled and positioned the head of his cock at Clint’s entrance. Clint, ever impatient, ever needy, pushed back against him, forcing Phil’s cock into the tight channel of his ass. Clint cried out, but it was muffled a split second later by Phil’s hand over his mouth. Phil fucked Clint hard, his eyes watching the way that his own cock disappeared and reappeared from the tight heat that was Clint, feeling the way that Clint panted against his hand.

After a moment, Phil removed his hand and Clint let out a soft moan. Phil’s hand ran over Clint’s back, a soft touch compared to the ferocity of which he took Clint.

"Phil… Please touch me Phil, please, please…"

Phil loved these moments. These precious moments where Clint was so lost in pleasure, so lost in him, that he forgot about the prison, about the people he felt he had to help, forgot about his past. He lost himself in the pleasure that Phil brought him, in the feeling of their bodies touching one another, loving one another. The way that Clint let his pride slip away and begged for more, for what it was that he needed.

Phil shifted, curtaining his body over Clint’s, his hand moving to stroke Clint’s heated cock. Clint let out a moan, his head resting on the desk as he moved back against Phil. Phil squeezed Clint’s cock gently, causing Clint to raise his head and gasp, his back arching. A louder gasp escaped the brunette when Phil shifted as well, his cock finding the spot that made Clint draw up, taut like a bowstring.

"Phil, please… oh, fuck, oh… Please, Phil. So close…"

Clint’s moans had dropped to a whisper, the words begged to the room more than to the man fucking his ass. Phil smiled, pressing his lips to Clint’s shoulder in a tender kiss before he thrust his hips faster, his strokes on Clint’s cock matching his own pace.

"Cum for me, Clint. Whenever your ready, let go…"

Clint dropped one hand, covering Phil’s, the two stroking his thick cock together. His other hand reached up, the knuckle of his index finger going in his mouth. His body spasmed as he bit his knuckle, his teeth digging in deep to stop him from crying out as he came into his own and Phil’s hands. Phil sped up his thrusts, fucking Clint through his orgasm for a minute until his own was pulled from him, and his seed filled Clint.

Clint dropped against the desk, panting and standing still as Phil pulled out of him. Phil quickly pulled a pack of tissues out of his pants pockets as he pulled them up, cleaning both himself and Clint up, pressing gentle kisses to Clint’s lower back as he did.

After they were both dressed again and the evidence of their love was cleaned from the office, Clint and Phil walked down the hall, speaking quietly.

"Who was the target of the attack in A-block?" Clint asked, putting the bandage over his knuckle, wincing.

"I told you to stop biting so hard," Phil whispered. He paused, nodding to another guard as they passed by, before he answered. "We’re not sure. I’m almost positive it was Howlett, but it’s hard to say. It wasn’t a guard though. We’re all sure about that. I’m thinking Howlett, because he runs that block. I’ll pass more information along when I’m sure…" Clint nodded, frowning.

"If the others are starting to make moves on Logan, it’s only a matter of time before it starts seeping into other blocks. I’ll see what I can find out later," he responded. Phil nodded, but took a moment to pause, glancing around quickly before pressing his lips against Clint’s. Clint opened his mouth immediately, clenching his fists to prevent himself from gripping Phil. Phil pulled back after a moment, watching Clint.

"Be careful," he whispered before raising his voice back to normal volume. "Back to your cell, Barton." Clint watched him for a moment before giving him a cheeky grin.

"Yes sir."

**

Blue eyes watched a very specific inmate as he ate in the cafeteria. For someone who had only been here one day, Wilson sure was making a lot of friends. Nate kept his posture straight, his arms at his side, instead of reaching up to run a hand through his hair like he wanted to. He had sensed something in the kid, nothing innocent, but something… almost there, that caused him to put him with Barton. Barton was good with new guys, and more patient than he liked to admit. It was a good match.

Nate forced his eyes away from the blond to watch different groups of inmates, but his eyes continued to shift back to Wade. His body was toned, not as thick or muscled as Nate’s own, but firm. He was an almost scrawny man, but every once in a while he shifted to show subtle hints of muscle. And maybe it was just Nate, but the guard swore he saw the tiny white lines that spoke of scars. What had this kid been into that got him scars…?

_More importantly_ , Nate thought to himself, _why do I care?_

Nate scowled as he forced his eyes away and shifted out of the cafeteria, deciding instead to work on some of the paperwork sitting in his office. that was better than dwelling on the new inmate.

At least, he hoped it would get his mind off the new inmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [My Tumblr](fuckyourcalibrations.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://fuckyourcalibrations.tumblr.com/)


End file.
